


Honey Boy

by CRScully



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Graphic, Hatred, Horror, Loneliness, Longing, Madness, Murder, Narrative, Passion, Poetry, Unsatisfied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3068384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CRScully/pseuds/CRScully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl is obsessed with her lover mind and body. He is all she thinks about, dreams about, she longs to possess him and keep him with her forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey Boy

 

    When he had something important to say he spoke so calmly and with such a level headed assuredness, that he did not even seem to be the same boy we all knew.  Each word came out slowly, deliberately and with great thought put to why it was chosen--each syllable forming and falling from his lips  with a smooth, sweet texture. Like honey. That's why they called him Honey Boy. And each word would float from his silky lips and stick to your brain, coating it in the rich, thick sense of his prematurely sage and enlightened words. Wise beyond your years means nothing when you're wise beyond your lifetime. 

And he would be frantic and a little neurotic all day and sweet and wise when the sun went down. And like a bee attracted to sweetness, I was drawn to his honey words instinctually; knowing my life was missing something great. I craved him after I first heard him speak. Craved the nectar of his soul--the sticky sweet heroin that was his lithe, willowy frame and mind. I was greedy. Once I had a taste, I wanted to drain him dry. And he was so kind that he would have let me. 

He was my Hercules. 

And I struggled under the enormous burden of my love for him--as large as the globe itself. He took the world and for a moment I was free. And then he handed it back to me.

He whispered his sweet honey words in secret conversations; initially as wise little quips and jokes between the two of us. They dripped from his lips into mine between kisses as he smothered them onto my face and neck and breasts. And eventually he whispered these sweet something's into my ear as he made love to me--gentle, smooth, and with his rich honey body. For those brief moments, lost in time, I could posses him. 

Your fire filled hormones on a mission; It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission. A sweating, whimpering, withering mass. 

You call out for me, but it never lasts. 

He was so sweet. I hated it. He never knew how mad he could drive me. To the very edge of extinction. My soul was but a prisoner inside of me for it too longed to know the silky touch and sticky words. I wanted all of him inside of me. Like I said before, I was addicted like no other human being had ever been. Addicted to something so completely intangible, but all too real at the same time. Not unlike how a man can be addicted to the worship of god or life--but I was obsessed with worshiping him. I wanted to taste his life. 

That single, elusive taste I received from him could not sate my growing hunger. It could not even begin to satisfy the dawning, destructive need within me. Like a dying man to water, I was drawn to him at a subatomic level. I would do anything to satisfy this horrible desire--my perverted and pervasive sweet tooth. As wrong as it may have seemed, no human has ever known the passion I did feel when he told me how the universe shifted and bent around our intermingled bodies. How the growing desperateness inside my very core was how much he loved my broken body and mind. Sometimes he told honey lies. 

His sweet soul. Something that I longed for with every fiber of my being. The years only made me become mad with craving.  But he would not let me access it. Would not even show it to me in the privacy of the bed we had lost our virginities to each other in--where we had made our first child. 

His smile. His eyes. Sandy hair. Silken touch. All like honey. My Honey Boy. Mine alone. 

      I want to chew on your carotid artery. I want you to bleed out so I can suck the sweet nectar of your life until you are as dry as a marrowless bone. I want to swim in your depleted veins and worm my way into your heart and tear little holes in your brain to lay my eggs. Then they'll hatch and we’ll be a happy family and I can be with you forever. Only then. 

      My sweet, sweet Honey Boy. 

      Why won't you share your soul with me?

      I knew then that I had no choice.

**       I knew what I had to do.  **

**Author's Note:**

> This short, narrative poem was inspired not by any lover, really (well, besides the one), but actually by the very small group of friends I had growing up. It was frustrating dealing with my feelings of familial abandonment and loneliness, especially during my senior year of high school when I went to live with my father and we were little more than strangers or ships passing in the night. I could feel everyone pulling away and moving more towards their own lives and independence and it was wholly maddening.


End file.
